


Hunting Techniques For A Girl To Take Down A Moose

by Niightmoves



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a cute sexy girl, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderswap, Jealousy, Laundromat, One Shot, POV Dean, POV First Person, Schmoop, Skirts, Wincest - Freeform, cracker barrel - Freeform, girl!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niightmoves/pseuds/Niightmoves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deanna gets talked into trying on some girl clothes, then wonders what Sammy will think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting Techniques For A Girl To Take Down A Moose

I don’t know how I got roped into this gig. I was driving Miss Daisy across the state so she could see her grandson’s wedding. Miss Daisy was who we referred to as Nana; not our real Nana of course, but one of Bobby’s old lady neighbors that used him for rides and repairs and such, paying him in homemade cookies and casseroles.

Nana sat shotgun in Sammy’s spot, making herself at home from the moment she settled in, and proceeded to rattle off about one thing or another until she nodded off somewhere along mile marker 250. It was peacefully quiet, and that would have been great except I really wanted to blast some Bad Company or Zep to make the miles go faster.

Around 5 pm, she woke up and bugged the shit outta me so hard about stopping for dinner that we pulled off the interstate at the first Cracker Barrel sign. I really didn’t mind, to be honest. It was on Nana’s nickel, and I could go for some pork chops and apple pie any day.

We were waiting for our food, and I was playing with the little peg game they put at the table to keep you busy while Nana spent time looking over the ticky-tacky gift shop. So help me, if we picked up Sammy and she was wearing one of those embroidered cat sweatshirts, I was gonna bust a gut. The waitresses here were cute. I gave ‘em my prettiest smile, but all it really made me think of was how much I missed Sammy.

I was never too thrilled with us doing separate jobs, even if they were easy-as-shit salt-and-burns or vengeful spirits we could do with our eyes closed. I never could relax until I saw Sammy safe and sound; get my arms around him and pull him in close enough to bury my nose in his neck and smell that hint of woodsmoke and muskiness that made my stomach flip-flop like always.

Our food arrived just as Nana was making her way back to the table. Yep, she had a bag in her hand. I just bet there was something cutesy in there like John Deere salt and pepper shakers or a plastic angel statue that lights up and plays “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”  That kind of put me in a shitty mood because, well, angels. Less said about those assholes, the better.

Nana sat down, all excited, and pulled out something that looked like a greeting card and handed it to me. “Thanks, Nana, uh…”

“It’s an air freshener,” she said brightly. “For your car. It kind of smells a little funky. You know.”

‘You know,’ she says; like she didn’t just insult my Baby to hell and back with one sentence. I bit my tongue and tried to stay polite, but when I saw the scent, Vanilla Cupcake—oh, hell no. Maybe if it was Leather—I could even take Cinnamon in a pinch— but Vanilla Cupcake? No fucking way. Sam would laugh me outta the car. I’d never live it down.

“Nana—”  


She patted my hand with a smile. “Sweetie, it’s alright to like girly things. You’re tough and strong, but you can be soft, too, honey.”

I hated when she called me that.

“Don’t call me that.”

I scowled and served her up a bit of cold shoulder as I ate my country fried pork chops— which were delicious, by the way. Cracker Barrel was my second favorite restaurant chain after Biggersons. They might even have the edge on pork chops. Pretty sure that’s fact. 

“Deanna. Hon-“

I swear, old ladies have some kind of power when they speak that makes you regress back to six years old. I looked at her with my best kick-ass-take-names expression. She wasn’t having it. Finally, I rolled my eyes and cocked my head, mouth full of pork chop, and made a gesture for her to go on.

“Wearing a skirt every once in a while wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

I chewed and swallowed. God save me from grannies who want to fix every damn thing. “Can’t work in a damned skirt.”

She pursed her lips in amusement and looked over her glasses. “I wasn’t talking about all the time and you know it, Miss Winchester.” She took a drink of her iced tea and looked me over briefly. “You’re very pretty. Beautiful, actually, under all that flannel and denim. Shame you hide it….”

Christ, here we go.

“I know someone who might like it.”

That had me sitting up and taking notice—sounded like she was implying something that I wasn’t in any mood to admit to. I tried to head it off with a warning and then ignoring it. That usually worked. Usually. “Nana.”

She sat there with that little sneaky ass smile on her face, just looking at me before digging into her apple pie. “You forget I’ve lived next to Bobby Singer for forty years. I’ve heard things. Seen things. Know enough about the Winchesters to know their daddy did the best he could, bringing them two little ones up by himself like he did.”

I sat still as a statue. The food was heavy on my stomach and for an awful second I was sure I was gonna puke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about….” We were always taught never to admit to anything under interrogation.

I snuck a peek at her just to see if she was buying it. She caught my eye and looked at me kinda sad and sweet. “You do the best you can with what you got, hon. I don’t judge. No home, no family—nothing but each other now that your daddy’s gone….” She shook her head slightly and I was shocked to feel close to tears all of a sudden. Must be hormones. Sammy busted my chops over it every month.

It was time to put a stop to it once and for all. Shit between me and Sam was our business. Everyone else could go fuck themselves, far as I was concerned.

“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Can we finish our pie and get the hell back on the road now?”

That seemed to shut her down. Christ, I was counting the minutes ‘til I could drop off this old bat and get Sam back sitting shotgun like he belonged.

**

As luck would have it, Nana spotted the Walmart just up the road from the restaurant and remembered a couple of things she needed before the wedding, so I was stuck tagging along behind her as she drifted from one aisle to the next. I don’t know what the strategy was, because she seemed like she was in no hurry to get out of there, making me even more itchy to get back in the driver’s seat and make tracks.

Walking though Walmart, all I could think of was how much I couldn’t relate to half the shit people were buying. I usually stuck to the guns and ammo section and the men’s department. That always sucked, because even though I was five nine, I was never gonna get the kind of shoulders that filled out a shirt the way Sammy did. And damn, that boy could fill out a shirt like nobody’s business. I usually felt like a shorter, skinnier version of him. Also female, but that couldn’t be helped. Not so far, anyway; though a crossroads demon did try and tempt me with a sex change once.

Nana was browsing the ladies’ wear, taking her damn sweet time, and I was bored as fuck. Picked up some of that fancy shave gel that Sam likes and spent few minutes trying out all the deodorant scents and some of the body sprays. Sam would laugh if I got him one of those but I know he’d wear it anyway because he rarely has the balls to tell me no. Okay,that’s unfair. I think he does it because he thinks it makes me happy. He’s right.

I walked back to find Nana and she was holding up a shirt. Not a Nana shirt, either. It was a dark plum color. Plain; but the cut was a hell of a lot more feminine than anything in my duffel. Not horrible, but I sure as hell wasn’t gonna tell her that.

“Just indulge me this once,” she asked me, looking more hopeful than she ought to. 

“Fine. If it gets us out of here sooner, I’m game.” I reached out for the shirt and then she handed me another hanger with a skirt on it. I really cussed a blue streak when I realized I’d been outsmarted. Gotta give her props, though—the old bird was sharper than I gave her credit for.

She steered me toward the changing room and once in there, it wasn’t too long before I was staring at a stranger in the mirror. A stranger with my face. I just stood there looking, trying to make sense of my head on the body of someone else. The shirt skimmed along my breasts and sides—not constricting like I thought it would be, but almost like a second skin. The skirt—well, the only word for it was _short_ —I know girls wore ‘em way shorter, but Jesus Christ, one gust of wind and you’d be looking into the crack of my ass for real.

A tap on the door startled me and I opened it to see Nana standing there, beaming like she was about to have kittens. I cocked my head at her and dared her to say anything.

“Honey, you are _breathtaking_. You have the perfect body to show off in that outfit. And your legs! I’d have _killed_ to have long legs like that when I was your age!” 

I felt as red as a tomato as she said that, and when I turned back to the mirror, yep—I sure was. But I also tried to look again through her eyes and yeah, I did see me in there—long, coltish legs, slender hips, and an athleticism that was the result of a hell of a lot of hours of sparring and PT.

I didn’t hate it.

Part of me wanted to really love it.

“It’s not me, though.”

“Maybe it’s not _all_ of you, but it can be a _part_ of you, can’t it?” Did she have to make so much fucking sense? The longer I stood there in that damn skirt the more I wondered what Sam would think. If he’d think it was pretty—think _I_ was pretty—or if he’d laugh and ask me what the hell I was thinking, dressing up like a normal girl.

Nana had a jacket in her hands and before I could say a thing, she held it up, and I was sliding my arms into the sleeves and pulling it on. The light black denim wasn’t as bulky as the jackets I usually liked, but this one fit well and I still felt like I had my layers on. 

I took a good look at myself—choppy brown hair framing serious green eyes, the closefitting jacket and skirt, and long, lean legs ending in black motorcycle boots.

I reached down and took the hem of the black skirt between my fingers. It was like something from a different world.

“Will he like it?” I whispered, more to myself than to Nana.

She had her arms around my shoulders, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “It’s still you. How could he not?”

Call me crazy, but I wore the outfit out of the store. Even grabbed some silky panties on the way out.

**

I dropped Nana off at her son’s house on the outskirts of town, with a promise that she’d keep shit between us and not breathe a word to Bobby, although if the crazy neighbor lady could see there was something between me and Sammy, chances are it wasn’t a secret from a sharp tack like Bobby.

I drove across town to the Laundromat where I was supposed to pick up Sam. They were great places to meet up—warm and open long hours. Sammy loved the free Wi-Fi, of course. I swear, if he went without the internet for more than a couple of days, he got incredibly cranky. Not even a weekend off spent cuddling in bed with all the room service you could handle was enough to distract him.

I pulled up in the lot. The sun was down and stars were out, shining like a million diamonds. I sat there in the dark, wondering what the hell I was doing wearing a fucking skirt and girly clothes. He was going to laugh his ass off, I just knew it. I was ready to start the car and head out to a gas station to change when I saw him through the windows.

It was brightly lit, but even if it wasn’t, I’d never miss that figure. There weren’t too many six-foot-four guys who were built like a brick shithouse, hanging around out-of-the-way Laundromats. He was dressed in just a t-shirt and jeans, drinking a can of soda, talking and laughing with someone I couldn’t see.

I could feel the hot knot of anxiety that had been riding me since we split up finally loosen and float away. He was safe and sound—looking just as healthy as he ever did, stupid shaggy hair and all. I’d never tell him this, but if he ever cut that mop I’d have a fucking cow. It was one of the best feelings in the world to have my hands up in it when we were kissing or when he was buried deep in me. 

He was leaning back, all relaxed and smiling at whoever he was talking to, looking like every girl’s wet dream. Maybe the skirt could stay. I had a quick mental picture of driving down the road, Sammy’s hand under my skirt, and yeah. It could stay.

A girl came into view, the one Sammy was laughing so hard with. I try to not take it personally when he’s attracted to someone. I mean, it’s natural—more natural than the crazy thing we’ve got going on—and he’s always trying out ‘normal,’ as if there is such a thing for us anymore. I give him the chance to try, even though I think it’s a hopeless cause, but fuck, why crush his dreams, right?

She’s his type: slim, pretty, long dark hair. They’re folding her laundry, Christ—he even got his hands on her panties, and she looked all fake-shocked and snatched them out of his fingers. It’s obvious there’s attraction between them and I don’t want it to, but it hurts down deep in that place I like to pretend doesn’t exist. Watching them flirt is a little like a knife twisting in my heart.

I shook out a cigarette and lit it, watching them as the smoke curled up and around my head. Digging under the seat, I pulled out that asinine air freshener and opened it—the sickly sweet smell of cupcakes filled the car. I wondered if he was thinking about staying in town. Maybe he’d want to rent a room and take the car and go meet her at her place, have a few drinks and fuck her.  Surely not. He knew I was coming to pick him up.

There was a little whiskey left in a flask in the glove box and I sat there, smoking and sipping on it, trying to convince myself to just call him and tell him I’d be there tomorrow. But I couldn’t. Couldn’t do it—not when he was right there, _right the fuck there_ —looking so goddamn beautiful and strong, and me, sitting there in the stupid skirt, trying to look pretty for him, and—

Oh god.

The girl leaned over and rubbed up on him. Rubbed the fuck up on Sam like she’s a cat in heat, for crissakes. He looked a little surprised, but didn’t back away, and she did it again like she’s practically inviting him to put his hands on her. Sam just stood there, a little smile on his face, like he’s thinking about it.

I shouldn’t worry about it. Shouldn’t care—it’s just sex. We’ve been in a hundred towns, both slept with men and women, not keeping track or anything because it’s always us in the end. We arrive together, we leave together. Always was that way, always will be.

I was up and out of the car before I knew it, taking a second to straighten my skirt and jacket and run a hand through my hair. As an afterthought, I bent back in to grab a shiny stick of lip gloss from the glove box and run it over my lips. If I was going into a fight, I intended to be well armed.

One last hit on the flask and I dropped it on the seat. Now I was ready.

He glanced at me a second as I walked in—no, more like swaggered in. I wanted to laugh when he realized it was me, his eyes big and round as he took me in, bare legs, skirt, and all. Don’t know what you called the look in his eyes, but I liked it.

I walked up and slid my arms around him. “Hey, there sexy. Been waiting a long time?”

He was smiling wide and those goddamn dimples were fucking adorable. I could see blood on his lip. “What happened there, Sammy?”

He looked down at me and his tongue flicked over the split. “Just a little cut. No big deal….”

I reached up and pulled his face close, “Aw, lemme see.”  Normally I’d make some smart-ass comment like he needed to learn to duck, but having him close again made me a little on the sappy side.

I could have kissed him right there. Would have, but Miss Thing sighed loudly and I turned to her to make nice and smooth things over before we left the joint. “Thanks for keeping Sammy company ‘til I got here.”

She looked like ten shades of bitch, but smiled and said it was no problem at all, and then asked Sammy if I was the sister he said he was waiting on. I give it to Sam, he didn’t bat an eyelash as he said yes, even though I was practically in his lap and looking like anything but.

Laundromat Girl made a face like she just stepped in dog shit, and I smiled at her because it was all over. I turned to Sam, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off me, and asked if he was ready to go.

I waggled my fingers at Bitchcakes as we walked out the door, Sammy’s hand on the small of my back, and as soon as we were outside, he slid it down over my ass.

“What possessed you to do this?”

I smirked a little. “Go ahead and ‘Christo’ me.”

We got up to the car and he crowded me up against the door. “Mmm. I wanna do something to you, but that’s not it.”

He kept leaning back and looking at me, his hands gliding up and down my back and around to squeeze the cheeks of my butt—sliding his hands up under the short skirt and slipping his fingers under the elastic of the silky panties. He pressed his hips in hard and I could feel that monster cock of his as he rocked against me.

That’s one of those secret things about Sam that few people knew about. How he was such a polite guy on the outside, mild mannered and gentle—but when it came to sex, he was a goddamn tiger. I mean, the guy could literally fuck you through the mattress. I’m not even exaggerating.

He was all over the skirt and panties, stroking the silky material as he rolled against my hip, our mouths all over each other, trying to cover every bit of exposed skin with kisses and lips and bites. If I’d have known wearing girly shit would have this effect, I’d have done it a lot sooner, that’s for damn sure. “No jokes now, Sammy; what do you think? Really. Do I look stupid?”

He leaned in and kissed me tenderly. “Dee-“ he breathed against me, ”you’re beautiful. Look so hot. I love it. Love you like this… all pretty and sexy….”

I’d be lying if I said I that didn’t make my ego swell up a little. I mean, of course I knew I didn’t have trouble getting attention from boys _or_ girls, but this was Sammy, and it meant a lot more coming from him because he never, ever lied to me.

He pressed his mouth against my neck, sucking hard, and I knew there’d be a mark there tomorrow. “But baby, I don’t care what you wear. That’s not why I love you. There’s always a part of me missing when you’re gone, and I’m not gonna be happy until we’re back where we belong.”

If we died right then and there, I think I’d go happy. I couldn’t help smiling a little because, hey, I _was_ hot—short skirt or plaid shirt—and I could kick the shit out of just about anything that got in my way. What’s not to love?

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I felt Sammy’s fingers slide along my bare thigh and up under my skirt. I started looking for a motel with a vacancy sign.

 

**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to sbb23 for the amazing beta. She rocks. I'm not really a huge fan of genderswap, but some bunnies just won't let you go.  
> Thanks to ZelaMorre for the kick ass title. Proof that a little wine helps creativity!  
> Also, I know Walmart doesn't sell guns anymore, but let's just assume they still did at the time this fic takes place.  
> xoxo


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